


It Feels Impossible, Is It Possible?

by LLN3dseestheLight



Series: Something Just Like This [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Angst, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, Fix-It, Gen, Humor, Rule 63, Stiles Stilinski is Thomas (Maze Runner), Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24160663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LLN3dseestheLight/pseuds/LLN3dseestheLight
Summary: John Stilinski found a video and a notebook with a fantastic explanation for his daughter, Stiles sudden disappearance. The message was a plea for help. While the journal dictates what he has to do and when to help her.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Newt (Maze Runner)/Stiles Stilinski, Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner), Peter Hale/Sheriff Stilinski
Series: Something Just Like This [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1743592
Comments: 16
Kudos: 193





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Let's just say there were girls in the maze, okay.

**Future-August 2020.**

The forest, of the nature preserve that surrounded the small town of Beacon Hills, California, pausing by a tree, Stiles leaning against it panting, it was unseasonably cold for this time of year, so her breath makes small white clouds, as she exhaled harshly, that floated on the air before quickly dissipating. The dampness of the late-night air made her clothing stick to her in uncomfortable ways, when she had run through the woods.

Once rested she continued on her way at a slower jog, it shamed her at how out of shape she was, Stiles hadn't done much running for fun, only in life-threating situations. There had been a few since her time in the maze. But there hadn't been that many in the last few years. Not even with the supernatural bullshit, Stiles dealt with on what felt like a weekly basis and after recovering from the second a gunshot wound Stiles had received in her life, this time having obtained it saving Liam's life. Stiles hadn't exercised as much as she knew should have, Stiles, tried not to be too hard on herself.

Running wasn’t something she liked to do anymore in any fashion unless she had too.

Moonlight from the bright full moon, illuminated the well-worn dirt path to Stiles destination. It wasn't long before she came to a clearing where a tree stump sat big enough for at two people could sit on comfortably with room to spare. This thing, the cause of most of the trouble Stiles had known in the last few years. It had drawn all sort of supernatural creatures and beings that would use it for their own ends. In this Stiles was no different in wanting this though her reasons may be different from them, she still wanted to use the Nemeton for its power.

Stiles took off the small leather backpack she was carrying, as she walked up to the Nemeton. She set it on the stump, disturbing the few bugs that were gathered there and then sat down next to the pack, opening it. Stiles pulled out the supplies she would need. It had taken a year a half of careful research that Stiles had hidden from the McCall pack, to find what she needed, if it was possible. They all would have told her that her dwelling in the past was unhealthy.

Maybe it was, but the ‘ _what if’_ was slowly driving her crazy. Stiles wondered if she could have saved them if she had known what she did now? What if she hadn’t been Thomasina but if she had been herself, Stiles Stilinski? Could she have changed the outcome of those events?

What if she had stopped all those deaths? What if it _had_ been her fault?

Could she have _saved_ him? Could she have kept the one person that knew her better than she had known herself at that time in her life?

Stiles put several items in a bowl and mixed them; there was a snapping sound and the contents of the container caught on fire. Stiles watched the flames flicker and lick the sides of the container for a moment; then she picked up the bowl ignoring the heat from the bowl, she stood up and poured the contents of the bowl on to the Nemeton. Stiles whispered the words she had found in those old tomes she had paid a pretty penny for, the words that would allow Stiles to speak to the Nemeton. If she was found worthy of the honor, the last time a Nemeton had spoken was during the age of Camelot it was written.

The burning Nemeton seemed to shiver, and the flames grew higher and higher. Stiles watched as the orange-red flames that were the fire’s natural color quivered changing into an eerie dark viridian with hints of acid green on the edges. Stiles watched as the green fire slowly began to shift into a vaguely female humanoid shape, with bright glowing amethyst eyes.

**_“Girl Who Runs with Wolves…”_ **The being’s voice was genderless, it had a timeless face, and the look in its eyes was worn and wary as if it was used to the betrayals it had suffered and would suffer in the future. What had it called Stiles’ had she heard it before?

Who had called her that?

Yes, now she remembered it had been, Gerard Argent, who had named her that. It had been the night he had kidnaped her from the lacrosse game.

**_“Runner of the Maze, Survivor of the Scorch, First Hero of the People…”_** The memories of that time are a raw wound upon her heart and mind. Stiles has more nightmares about those eight months of her life. Then any of the supernatural bullshit, she'd been through in all the years she had known about it. The memories of when she had been possessed by the Nogitsune hadn't hurt except for Allison's death. Allison's death had hit her harder than she thought it would. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Allison had died similar way as _he_ did.

**_“Hunter’s Bane, destroyer of the wicked…”_** The spirit of the Nemeton gave her a fondly amused look when it said that. Destroyer of WCKED would be a more accurate title, Stiles thought.

**_“Why have you summoned me?”_ **

****

“Why have you answered?” Stiles sassed back at the spirit of the Nemeton. The Nemeton knew why she had summoned it. Stiles didn’t have the patience for these sort of word games. Not anymore.

**_“You know that is not how this works. You must ask for what you want…”_ **

****

“I, I want to save _him_.” Stiles voice trembled on the ‘him.’ “I want to save them, _all_ of them if I can. But mostly I want to do this for him. I know it’s selfish, but it’s the only thing I want. I’m willing to do anything and everything for it.”

**_“You may have too,”_** the Nemeton said, dryly. **_“What you ask will not come easily or cheaply.”_**

****

Stiles raised her chin, glaring, temper flaring, “You _owe_ me,” Stiles stated, harshly.

A confused expression crossed the Nemeton’s face; bright eyes are blinking rapidly. “You owe me because _you_ let that thing possess me! You who were charged with guarding the Nogitsune against causing harm so long as it lay in your roots!”

The Nemeton’s face drooped, making it look sad. Stiles wasn’t fooled. She knew it could feel something akin to emotions, though Stiles would not call them anything close to human ones. It tilted its head as if thinking on something before nodding in agreement, saying,

**_“I do owe you a boon, one I will grant for free.”_ **

****

“The boon and what I will ask of you,” Stiles said, “I will pay for the request in any way you want.”

The Nemeton nodded again, **_“Speak.”_**

****

_“…And if I could do it all again? I wouldn’t change a thing. My hope for you is that you’ll be looking back years from now and be able to say the same.”_

Stiles never heard _him_ speak those sentences, yet, she heard them in his voice all the same. His last words to her. It was a beautiful sentiment, but it was one Stiles _didn’t_ agree with if she had to do it all over again? There are a few things Stiles _would_ change.

“I want to go back in time two months before I was kidnapped by Gerard Argent, keeping my memories from what I know now, don’t let WCKED take them. To save the life of Samuel Emerson, he the one I know best by the name of Newt, Second-in-Command of the Gladers of the Maze.” Stiles demanded.

**_“Do you think the actions you take in such a short time will save him?”_ **

****

“Not my actions, no, not alone,” Stiles said softly; she had a plan. One she had been working on since his death. One Stiles had no idea would work. It could all end in her death, but at least she had tried _something._

**_“Your boon?”_ **

****

“Please,” Stiles whispered, tears welling up in her eyes, “keep Samuel Emerson, that I know best by the name of Newt, Second-in-Command of the Gladers, and…Keeper of My Heart, _safe_! Keep him alive, safe from all that would harm him. So, he can live a long full life, dying a natural death.”

The Nemeton narrowed its eyes at her, **_“Even if that means he lives a life without you in it?”_**

****

Stiles felt the tears run down her cheeks as she choked out, “ _Yes!_ ”

**_“You would sacrifice for this?”_ **

****

Stiles reached down and pulled a small dagger from under the sleeve of her jacket, she stepped closer to the Nemeton, placing the blade at her breast knowing it would sink into her heart, with the right amount of pressure, "Anything. Everything!"

**_“Give me his last words to you.”_ **

****

Stiles eyes widened, “What?”

“ ** _Give me his last words to you.”_**

****

Stiles took a deep breath, then in a shaky voice said, “Dear Tomi, this is the first letter I can remember—”

**_“No.”_** The Nemeton cut Stiles off, **_“The precious words that rest around your neck,”_** Stiles hand came up to her neck clutching at the shotgun shell that was tied with a piece of leather, it contained only two pieces of paper. It was all she had left of him that she could touch.

**_“As I said, child, not easily nor cheaply.”_** The Nemeton said with disinterest.

****

Stiles twisted the leather strings around her fingers, she gave it a sharp tug, pulling it from her neck. She looked at it for a long moment, staring at the dark stain on the leather, she couldn’t remember if it was blood or ichor that had made the stain. If this worked? Stiles would not need this last goodbye from the one she loved. He would be in the world, even if it was without her. Stiles held out the make-shift necklace to the Nemeton.

The spirit held out its hand; Stiles placed the necklace into the Nemeton’s hand. For a moment nothing happened then, the smell of burnt leather almost made Stiles sick, a popping sound, and Stiles watched as the shotgun shell burst open and a couple of pages of the letter floated in the air for a moment. Stiles couldn’t stop the tears; thankfully, they blinded her to the sight of watching the pages burn.

**_“Such an honorable soul is your lost love,”_** the Nemeton breathe out, its amethyst eyes going vague for a moment, before snapping back sharply to Stiles, **_“I will grant what you ask and your boon. You have given his words in sacrifice; you will also give your heart’s life essence and a promise to me.”_**

Stiles had been prepared to give her life for this; it’s why she told no one in the pack knew what she had planned. If any of them had known, if her father had known? They would have tried to stop her, and that wouldn’t have ended well for anyone involved.

“What promise?” Stiles asked.

**_“When you succeed,”_** Stiles was taken back by the pure belief in the Nemeton’s tone, as if the creature had no doubts that Stiles would do nothing else, ** _“Mieczyslawa Stilinski, Girl Who Runs with Wolves, Hunter’s Bane, she who is Thomas, Maze Runner, Destroyer of the Wicked, you will come back to me… to be my Guardian, my Champion.”_**

****

Stiles didn't even have to think about it. "I will, I promise," Stiles said, then shoved the dagger into that sweet spot that would sink close to her heart— Stiles staggered forward into the Nemeton's waiting arms—the sudden sharp pain took her by surprise. She had been stabbed in the chest before, and it hadn't hurt this much. No, this pain was like when Janson shot her after she had lost the one person that genuinely mattered to her. Stiles hadn't realized until this moment how much she valued life; she could feel it slipping away. Stiles cried out in pain as the Nemeton's touch burned her, not with heat, but with cold contact, so severe, it burned.

**_“Close your eyes, my child, let it take you. When you next open them, the worst part of your life begins anew.”_ **

****

Stiles took the deepest breath she was able with the knife in her chest, the irony that her death here mimicked that of Newt’s death, was not lost on her. She closed her eyes, on an exhaled breath, and Stiles never heard the Nemeton weeping for her passing, joined by a wailing cry of a Banshee in the distance. Stiles’ body slowly reduced to nothing but ash, fading from the arms of the spirit of the Nemeton, that were carried away on a harsh, angry wind that blew through the forest. As if it too mourned the loss of Stiles Stilinski.

***

In another forest, next to a meadow, surrounded by enormous concrete walls on all four sides. A harsh, bitter wind blew, disturbing the huts, and lean-tos of those that lived there violently enough to wake many of them up in terror, because the wind never had in their memories acted so differently, from the light, cool breezes that were the norm in the meadow. The wind in its harshness rattled the walls of one hut so hard it woke the occupant, waking them from their dreams causing the occupant jerk up in bed, panting, and he wiped the tears from his eyes, then through his hair, prompting his short blond hair to stand on end.

He whispered, confused, “Tomi? What have you done?” Then as he became more awake and shook the images of his dreams away, a joyously whisper of, “You’re coming, aren’t you? You’re coming for me, for us?”


	2. One

**January 2011-Present Day**

John Stilinski watched the people in his living-room throw accusations at each other. Scott McCall and Derek Hale were the loudest of them all. John knew all of them in one way or another; he had seen or caught most of them at one of his crime scenes. The one thing they all had in common was that they knew Stiles, his daughter, who had disappeared four days ago.

“Alright!” John yelled, getting everyone’s attention, “Shut the hell up and sit your asses down, right now!”

Everyone instantly stopped talking. The sheriff had a reputation for being a calm and quiet man. For him to raise his voice? It must be bad.

John waited until the roomful of adults and teenagers settled down. Slowly John looked around the room, Melissa, looked tired, her dark curly hair in a messy pony-tail and her nurse’s scrubs wrinkled from a long shift at the hospital, sitting on the sofa next to her son, Scott.

Scott with his ever-confused expression and sad puppy-dog eyes was sitting next to Allison Argent, who looked like snow white come to life with her pale skin, sparkling coffee colored eyes and ink dark wavy waist length hair. Her father, Chris Argent, as John’s daughter once said, redefined the meaning of silver fox, sat to Allison.

Lydia Martin flung back her strawberry blonde hair and gave the others in the room a calculating look in her emerald colored eyes. Her boyfriend, that blonde haired and cerulean colored eyes, the asshole, Jackson Whittemore and Danny Mahealani, why that nice Hawaiian boy was Whittemore’s friend was something most of the town couldn’t figure out, sat squeezed together on the loveseat.

The blonde-haired girl with big, sad, chocolate brown eyes, sat between Vernon Boyd’s legs on the floor, her back against his chest, was Erica Reyes, and curled up tightly against the dark-skinned boy’s side was, the cherubic-looking Isaac Layhe, his ash-blonde curls falling down over sky blue eyes.

In the corner of the room, sitting in an armchair was Derek Hale, looking as exhausted as John felt, rings under his tri-colored blue-green-gray eyes, his short jet black hair messy as if he kept raking his fingers through it in frustration, his expression set in his ever-resting bitch face. Next to him leaning against the wall was his uncle, the once presumed dead, smirking as if he knew something the rest of them didn’t, Peter Hale, his ashy blonde-brown hair pulled back in a low pony tail at the base of his neck, knowing sapphire eyes bounced from person to person in the room before coming to rest on John.

Alan Deaton stood by the door, the dark-skinned man, taking in the room with a calm bland gaze with his dark eyes.

“Why are we all here, Sheriff?” Chris Argent asked, eying the others in the room warily.

“As you all know, Stiles is missing,” John said, and everyone started talking at once, again.

“Have you found her?” Scott asked, his expression hopeful.

“Her disappearance was Argent’s fault!” Peter accused.

“Why do you say that, Hale!” Chris shot back.

“We saw nothing!” Came from Erica, Boyd, and Isaac, all three were looking warily at Allison and Chris.

“Shut up all of you!” John yelled again. He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling, “Two days ago, I found a stack of DVDs and a notebook on my desk in my study, along with a list of names. Your names were on it. That’s why I asked you all here. I know you all know what’s been going on in Beacons Hills for the last few months and I want answers!” He walked over to the television were in set up the DVD player with the video already in it, “And if this is the only way to get any of them? So be it.” John said as he turned on the tv and smacked the play button on the DVD player.

An image of Stiles appeared on the television screen; she was resting her head on her clasped hands,

**Dad, you need to go into your study more.**

Stiles raised her head, looking at the camera Her face was pale, with light purple stains under her eyes, something that indicated lack of sleep. Her hair was lank, greasy, falling around her shoulders.

**I was going to write everything you needed to know in the journal but… It took more than two hours to write down some events that took less than ten minutes to happened in real-time. So, I figured to would be quicker to tell you this way. With the journal you will find more DVDs, what’s written down needs to be given to Scott’s dad…but I’m getting ahead of myself.**

**By the time you find this, I will be gone.**

**No, I’m not dead. Not yet, anyway.** Stiles smiled, stiffly, the humor falling flat.

**You should have retraced my steps enough to figure out that I disappeared the night of the lacrosse game. The one that Jackson Whittemore supposedly died at; I have been taken by Gerard Argent. For reasons that you will have to talk to Scott, Derek Hale and Chris Argent about. Gerard Argent by now as sold me a man called Jansen, this man will have taken me to a woman named Ava Paige.**

John glared at the three people Stiles named, that was in the room.

**What Scott, Derek Hale, and Chris Argent will tell you is the truth.** Stiles glared at them from the tv screen, **it had better have been that the supernatural, Werewolves and the like are real if they didn’t then they have lied to you and you have my permission to shoot both Scott and Derek for lying. They’ll heal. Chris? Throw into jail.**

All three looked chagrin; they all had tried to lie. John had taken his daughter’s advice and threatened Chris Argent with jail time, shot Derek Hale in the kneecap and threaten to ground Scott, to get the truth from them.

**Also, have Scott tell his dad about the supernatural too.**

Scott made a sound denial but hushed at Melissa’s glare.

**I know we don’t like him, but he is good at his job. And we need his help to find me. I need his help. And your help, dad. But things must be done carefully.**

**Agent McCall has to look into the WCKED corporation; it’s a subset of the Rossum Corporation. WCKED is doing illegal human experiments. Social, environmental, medical tests. They must be stopped! They are working on a biological virus called the Flare.**

**It will create something close to zombies, with those infected, dad. No, I’m not joking.** Stiles grimaces.

**This case will make McCall's career, but this must be done carefully. I can’t lose the most important person in my life again. I just can’t. Or else living through all of this again will be for nothing.**

Again? John wondered if she brought up time travel? He was done. Werewolves were one thing but time travel?

Stiles nods at the screen, **Yeah, now I’ve confused you, huh? So, time travel is a thing. No, no, Dad, don’t turn the video off!** And yep, there it was, John sighed, so time travel was a thing. This cause a soft laugh to roll through the room.

**I made a deal with the Spirit of the Nemeton. Derek should know what that is and can explain it in more detail, if not him? His uncle, Peter Hale should.**

Derek looked like that was the last thing he ever wanted to talk about while Peter just had a smug expression on his face.

**But only believe what Peter tells you with a grain of salt. Also, ignore any flirting he does with you.**

John rolled his eyes. As if the man had that sort of interest in John.

**I mean it, Peter!** Stiles pointed at the screen, Peter’s expression only became smugger, as Stiles said, **don’t do it! I’ll set you on fire again!**

John wondered why she set Peter on fire the first time. And John wondered why he was wasn’t more concerned about that.

**Everything I’ve done or will do is to save the Keeper of My Heart, dad. You know I don’t use that phrase lightly. And you know why.**

The others in the room looked confused at the term. Yes, John did know why Stiles wouldn’t use those words lightly. It was what his wife, Claudia, use to call him.

**In about three months I’ll be sending out a video plea for help to the FBI. I’ll be calling myself Thomas (Don’t ask) in the video. That will be Agent McCall’s signal to move. In the journal will help you and the Pack to help me and my Gladers readjust to the world outside of WCKED and some information that Agent McCall will need coordinates to WCKED compounds and buildings.**

**Find them, Agent Asshole! Find all of them, or you and I will have words! And I know you don’t want that.**

John was going to make sure he was in the room when Raphael McCall saw this video so that he could see the other man’s face when Stiles called him Agent Asshole.

**When you get us out, we will be distrustful? Most of us will not believe it’s real. That will be the biggest hurdle for most of us to overcome. Just give us peace, quiet, a safe place, and do not separate those of us who are against it!**

**Just do as the journal says, and everything should come out okay. There are parts of it that I want you all to know, so pick one day a week to get together to watch a couple of video entries have a movie night do the pack bonding thing.**

“Pack bonding is not—" Derek started to say,

**Yes, Sour wolf, I know that’s not all to pack bonding, but it’s a start, okay?**

**Well, that is the crucial things out of the way. Now to get the Pack in order because, Derek, right now? You are not the best Alpha you could be, and that is not your fault. You weren’t trained to be one like your sister, and I know you are doing the best you can. It’s not your fault. None of it was your fault. Kate Argent used you to kill your family.**

Derek looked like he was going to be sick at Stiles words, and John made a mental note to talk more to him about Kate Argent later.

**Which by the way, Peter? You need to dig that bitch up and kill her again. She’s not dead, yet. Your claws when you were the alpha went too deep.**

That caused both Peter and Chris to go pale. John wondered why and how Kate Argent wasn’t dead. She had to be, John saw the body himself, right?

**Oh, and someone hit Scott on the back of the head for me? If the idiot had listened to me when he first started going wolfy? Things would have been a lot easier for all of us!**

Melissa was the one to do it.

“Owe!”

**Don’t be such a baby, Scotty-boy.**

“Can she see us?” Eyes wide, Scott asked.

**No, Scott, this is a pre-recorded video. I know you, moron! I can’t believe this guy becomes a True Alpha.**

John noticed that Scott looked confused, which was normal for him. Alan looked surprised at this, and a sly look crossed Peter’s face. John was going to have to keep an eye on Peter; John didn’t like that look.

**Scott, listen to those around you. Don’t plan anything. Your plans suck. It’s why I do the planning.**

“Hey! My plans aren’t that bad!” Scott muttered.

**Seriously, guys don’t follow Scott or Derek’s plans. They're not bad ones, but they don’t think things through. They don’t always see the big picture. Also, Derek, Cora is alive, she escaped the night of the fire. She’s been with a pack in South America, RoJo’s, I think they were distant relatives of yours? You have to stop her from coming to Beacon Hills. If you don’t, she’ll be caught by the Alpha Pack.**

**Hopefully, if they don’t capture her, they won’t have any leverage against you, and will,”** Stiles waved her hand, **“go somewhere else.**

**Oh, and Alan, the Darach is Julia, stop that bitch, please. Julia’s too far gone to be reasoned with anymore. And don’t trust your sister, she’s working with Duke’s new pack.”**

Alan had looked a bit taken back at the information he had received. John wondered if an alpha pack was what he thought it was, a pack of just alpha werewolves? He hoped not. Alphas are the strongest werewolves and a whole pack of them? John didn’t want to think of the problems they would bring if they showed up.

**Alan, stop being a cryptic bastard! Screw the balance and pick aside. You are the Emissary of the Hale pack, act like it. Because if any of them die because of something you could have done to stop it? You won't like what I'll do to you when I get back that I promise.**

Alan looked a bit afraid at Stiles words.

Stiles sighed and rubbed her eyes before continuing,

**Chris, this is your chance to redeem your family name. Protect those who can’t protect themselves; this includes supernatural beings. Not all of them are evil, you know.**

Chris looked down at his lap, avoiding the eyes of everyone in the room.

**Peter, stop being a power angry ass and help the last of the family you have left. It won’t be the same, but maybe you will find a Pack again. Oh, and there’s this coyote shifter in the Preserve, she’s your daughter.**

Both Peter and Derek looked shocked at this information. But happy at the news of more living family members.

**Melissa, you can help them by just being you. Listen when they need someone to listen. Give them advice when they need it. Just…be a mom. You’re good at that.**

A small smile crossed Melissa face at Stiles’ words.

**Erica, Boyd, and Isaac listen to Derek. He is trying, you know. It’s going to be hard; I know. Remember he gave you a choice. You choose this, don’t run from it. Because once you start running? In that way? You will always run. It might seem like Derek only wants you around to up his power base, he didn’t, but you have to remember he choose each one of you. Derek saw the wolves you could be, so be them.**

The three looked unsure but proud at Stiles words.

**Lydia, you’re a Banshee. Don’t be scared of the voices. Do the research find out how awesome and frightening you will be, and you’ll be both I know.**

A relieved expression crossed the face of the strawberry blonde girl.

**Allison, paddle your inner moppet and get over your mommy issues.** Stiles’ said harshly; her eyes had a hard look at them.

**Derek didn’t kill your mother; she committed suicide. Derek bit her by accident when she tried to kill Scott. Which is something Scott should have told you! Apologize to our schoolmates you hunted down like animals! And maybe if they are feeling forgiving, they will let you be in the Pack.**

Stiles’ rolled her shoulders, and her hard look softened,

**Erica, Boyd, and Isaac, it will be hard but forgive Allison, she had lost her mother and been told lies by people she trusted. It’s not an excuse, but it is a reason.**

**Danny, I know you are wondering what the fuck? If Jackson hasn’t told you the truth about werewolves and the like. Mostly you deserve to know why your best friend started mistreating you. Werewolves are the reason, and no it’s not a good reason. Make him suffer for that.**

Danny gave Jackson a shark-like a grin. Jackson whimpered. John knew at that moment; Danny was not as nice as people thought.

**Jackson, stop being an asshole. No, seriously, stop. Talk to your best friend and girlfriend. And you might keep at least one of those relationships before you move to London.**

Lydia and Danny looked shocked at the news and looked at the boy in question. Jackson only glared at the television. Stiles smiled, but John could see that it didn’t reach her eyes,

**Rule number one: Don’t die.**

**Rule number two: Never stop running when something is chasing you.**

**Rule number three: Don’t harm a member of the pack; you need to trust each other.**

**Rule number four: Trust no one outside of the pack, as long as there is no betrayal from within, there can be no betrayal from without, betrayal never comes from an enemy.**

**Rule number five: Remember, the most dangerous creatures are humans.**

**Follow these rules, and hopefully, you will all be alive when I see you again.**

Stiles reached out with a hand, to something off-screen,

**This is Stiles Stilinski …same bat channel, same bat time.**

The television when black.

John turned off the television and DVD player; he turned to face all the people in the room. “I think it’s time we all had a little chat, don’t you?” And, if John enjoyed the ‘oh shit’ expressions that crossed the faces of everyone in the room a little more than he should have? Well, they’d had this shit coming to them.


	3. Chapter 3

John had arranged it, so he had Saturdays off, for the pack meetings they’d decided to hold at John’s house. He wasn’t sure how he felt having all of these people in his home. But this was what Stiles wanted so he would do it if it would help her. Scott told his father about the supernatural and was surprised to learn that Raphael already had some idea about it.

A time-traveling Stiles?

Raphael had been a bit more skeptical about until John gave him Stiles notebook with all the information in it about WCKED and Rossum. It turned out the FBI was already investigating the Rossum Corporation. Because of the years of rumors about people disappearing and the urban legends connected to the company for turning people into mindless dolls that were used for what boiled down to high-class prostitution.

John had demanded that Raphael keep him updated on the case, and all but begged the man to listen to what Stiles told him to do and when to do it. Raphael had reluctantly agreed, but only if Stiles contacted the FBI.

The pack had gathered there had been snacks and a movie, some conversation but… John knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. He put in the DVD labeled number one in the DVD player, selected what said episode one and hit play.

An image of Stiles is shown on the screen. Sitting in her room appeared; there was a bottle of water sitting on the corner of her desk.

**Dad,**

**I have been thinking for the last twenty minutes on how to begin this, a beginning is essential, you know. If you don’t capture your audience’s attention quickly and hold it, they will get bored. But since most of you are a captive audience, I don’t have that problem, do I?** Stiles grinned when she said this, picking up a pencil and tapped it on the desk in front of her a couple of times before putting it down.

**I realized I couldn’t start this story as myself, could I? Because I wasn’t myself, at all. As you will come to see in this tale of mine. My first memory is waking up and vomiting in a dark, metal box that was slowly moving upwards. Imagine how terrifying, that the very first memory that you can ever remember having is something like that?**

**You don’t know where you are, how you got there, or even know your name.**

**That is Thomas’ very first memory. But I’m getting ahead of myself.**

John wondered at the significant of the name Thomas and why she was going to call herself that.

**The box finally stopped moving up, and it opened, and a teenage boy with resting bitch face almost as good as Derek’s, was the first person I saw. This person’s name I would later learn was Gally. Then he did something stupid; he grabbed me by the arm and I…decked him.**

“Good,” muttered Erica. “No one should touch you without permission unless your life is in danger.” Lydia, Allison, and Melissa made sounds of agreement.

**He frightened me, though I couldn’t have told you why then. Maybe it was Gally permanent pissed off expression on his face. (Which wouldn’t have bothered me had I been Stiles.)**

**I shoved him out of my way and climbed out of the box only to be met with a crowd of teenage boys I didn’t know. So, I did what any teenage girl in that situation would do. I ran. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much more of a plan than that. I could hear the catcalls from behind me, spurring me on. I didn’t get too far before I tripped over a rock.**

“I swear if Stiles could walk in a straight line, she would be dangerous.” Jackson snickered, leaning against Danny, who pushed him off him, with a dark look.

**Shut up. Yes, even without my memories, I’m still clumsy.**

**When I got up, that’s when I saw it. The giant walls concrete walls that surrounded all four sides of a meadow and small wooded area. These walls I would come to learn were that of the Maze, and the field and woods were in the middle of it, was called the Glade.**

**I was trapped in a place I didn’t know with strangers. If I had been myself? I would have gone out of my goddamned mind. But I wasn’t myself, and ultimately that was what helped me and damned me in the end- but again getting ahead.**

**So, enthralled by what was in front of me, I forgot about the threat behind me. I was grabbed again, and I twisted blindly around swinging a fist. It was caught by a dark-skinned boy, and he lightly shoved me back by it.**

**“Calm down, no one is going to hurt you,” he said, his name I would learn was Alby, “no one is going to touch you.”**

**And I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why? Why would a boy even want to touch me? It didn’t make any sense? I didn’t realize how dangerous my situation could turn out to be for me. **

“Naïve,” Lydia murmured, “sounds like they wanted them innocent, like children.”

**This naivete and trustfulness were one of the side effects of the memory wipes that WCKED did to us. They didn’t just take our names or our sense of self, but the memories about why a boy would hurt a girl.**

**And that wasn’t the worst of what WCKED did. Oh, no.**

**They took the memories of my mother! They took what if felt like when my dad hugged me! They took simpler things too, like what the warmth of the sun felt like on your skin — the feel of a breeze ruffling your hair, the clean, crisp taste of fresh water, what the full moon on a cloudy night looks like, the beauty of a star-filled the night sky. What curly fries’ taste like, what chocolate is, ice cream!**

**How the world was really like.**

**They took all of that away.**

Stiles looked away from the camera, and said nothing for a long moment before twisting her chair back to face the screen,

**“You can’t keep me here!” I told him.**

**“We can’t let you go in there,” Alby told me.**

**“So, that is the way out?” I asked.**

**“Not for us,” he said, “the only thing in there,” he pointed at the concrete walls, “is death. You won’t find a way out.”**

**I looked back at the walls. I wanted to tell them ‘watch me, just watch me' but I had enough sense not to say anything.**

**“Please let me take you over to the girl’s camp.”**

**Yes, it turned out there were other girls in the glade. Alby walked me over to the area where they made their camp and explained the rules,**

**“Never go outside the Glade, unless you are a Runner.”**

**“What’s a Runner?”**

**“That’s not important right now.” Alby said harshly, “Never hurt another Glader; we have to trust each other. Everyone does their part, no slackers. I will be telling Elena—”**

**“You’ll be telling me what?” Elena was a pretty, willowy, girl with pale skin, jet black hair and blue eyes, was the leader in the girl’s camp, much like Alby was for the boy’s, but Alby was the Leader of all the Gladers as a whole. She was, I would learn later the third in the chain of command in the Glade.**

**“That she—” Alby turned to me, “what’s your name?”**

**I had no idea at the time. “I… don’t know?”**

**Alby shook his head, “It will come back to you in a day or so. It’s the only thing they let us keep here.” He turned to Elena, “She has to go to the Slammer.”**

**“Why?” Elena asked, sounding annoyed.**

**“Because she punched Gally in the face.”**

**Elena rolled her eyes, “Of course she did, wouldn’t you if Gally’s ugly mug was the first thing you saw coming up out of the box?”**

**Alby snickered, “You have a point,” he sobered, “but the rules.”**

**“The rules,” Elena muttered, sighing, “Three hours, Alby! That all you get to punish her for, no matter what Gally says.” Alby started to say something but at Elena’s glare, said nothing. Elena turned and went back to the girl’s camp.**

**“Come on the quicker you start your punishment, the sooner it will be over,” Alby told him, leading me past a large garden…**

Stiles' voice trails off, she reaches over and takes a drink from the bottle of water that had been sitting on the desk.

**That was when I met him. **

John perked up at the empathize, put on the word,' him.' As did some others in the room, mostly the women in the room.

**Alby introduced me, “Greenie, meet Newt,” to this… _piekny chlopak_. Newt had short sandy-blonde hair, big brown eyes, that were full of life and mischief, he was tall but skinny built for running which was ironic because he had a limp when he walked. **

“What does piekny chlopak mean?” Allison asked.

“It’s Polish for a beautiful boy,” John said softly. And from the look on of remembrance on Stiles face she had thought Newt to be very beautiful.

**“When I’m not around, he’s in charge,” Alby said, with a grin.**

**“Good thing you are always around then,” Newt said in a dry, sarcastic way. Though perhaps it was just his British accent that made it sound so droll. As if he knew that being second in command of the glade was not as big of honor, as Alby made it out to be and Newt knew it. Then to me, he said, “You know for a moment there I thought you had the chops to be a Runner.”**

**I wanted to ask Newt what a Runner was because I had the feeling; he would answer my question.**

**Alby only laughed, though I could tell it was a forced one, “Newt, you know girls aren’t Runners.”**

**“Why?” I asked.**

**“Girls just aren’t,” Alby said, flatly in a tone that said he was tired of my questions. “I have to get her to the Slammer, and you,” to Newt, “need to prepare for tonight. The box came up late, so we have a late start.”**

**Newt nodded and walked back to the garden; I watched him go, Alby sighed and snapped his fingers in my face to get my attention, “Let’s go.” I frowned at him, but followed, though I couldn’t help but look back and said, Newt was looking back at me, he nodded then continued on his way.**

**“Don’t worry,” Alby said, with a knowing smirk, I didn’t understand then, “You’ll see him tonight.”**

**“What happens tonight?” I asked.**

**“You’ll see.”**

**And then I spent the next three hours in what was the glade’s jail cell. I know what you are thinking, Dad, that I wasn’t in Glade fifteen minutes and I was already in their jailhouse. But it was there I met Chuck, the youngest glader, he explained to me how things were in the glade. What the slang meant and how it was used.**

**When the three hours were over, I was shown to the girl’s camp, given a hammock and told to find a place to hang in it in the borders of the girl’s camp. I picked the area furthest from everyone else. I hung up the hammock in a tree, got in it, and took a nap.**

There came a ringing sound from the screen that startled Stiles, she rolled her chair back to her bed and picked up her cell phone. Touched the screen and frowned at it. Then muttered, **“I don’t care that Allison’s hair looks like dark fire in the moonlight, you idiot.”** She tossed the phone back onto the bed, carelessly.

Stiles rolled back to the desk and looked back at the screen, **“Got to the next, video. I got to go stop Scott from howling at Allison’s window like a lovesick puppy before Argent shoots him.”** She reached out, and the screen went black returning to the select menu page.

Everyone in the room looked at Scott, who sank into the sofa as far as he could ignoring the concerned looks his mother is sending him, and the murderous ones that Chris Argent is giving him.

“I’m not leaving until I know what happens next,” Erica stated, “it’s getting interesting.”

There are murmurs of agreement from the others, and John had to admit Stiles story had them hooked.

John reached down and selected the next episode and hit play.


	4. Chapter 4

The video starts with Stiles sitting at her desk, her red hoodie jacket thrown across her bed behind her. What worried John was the fact that Stiles' hands were shaking. She looked at the camera and sighed, **“I don’t like Kandima venom. I forgot how much I hate the feeling of being paralyzed. Lucky I was able to save the mechanics’ life tonight.”**

Yes, the mechanic could only remember that someone or something had attacked him. But they hadn't seen who or what it had been. Stiles had been at the auto shop to get her brakes on her jeep fixed. At least that's what John thought that the time.

**“Sorry, Jackson about bashing your head in with that wrench.”**

Though Stiles didn’t look at all sorry for it, Jackson glared at the TV screen as if he could set it on fire with the power of his mind. He’s had a headache for two days after that and hadn’t known why Stiles smirked at him every time, he complained about it, now he knew.

**So where did I leave off? Oh, right, my nap was rudely interrupted. When I was flipped out of the hammock and landed on the ground. I glared up at Elena, sleepily.**

**“Naptime is over, Greenie! Time for the bond fire!”**

**“What?”**

**As Elena dragged me to the boy’s camp, she explained that every time a new person came up in the box, the boys threw a party. Later I learned this was a lie. The boys threw a party at least once a week if not more. There wasn't much else to do in the Glade beside working in the garden, taking care of the animals and watching the doors to the maze open and close.**

**Elena took me around and introduced me to the Keepers. Keepers were the heads of the skill sets in the Glade. Minho, a Korean boy with, and I still never figured out how he kept his hair in that god damned K-pop style he favored, without hair-gel. Minho was the Keeper of the Runners. Those people, I would learn were in charge of running and mapping the Maze (this is important for later,).**

**Winton, an Indian boy, was the Keeper of the Slicers, they took care of the animals and the butchering of them. Frypan, a dark-skinned boy, was Keeper of the Cooks, those that cooked the food for the Gladers.**

**Hilly, a ginger-haired girl, was Keeper of the Weavers, they made the hammocks, blankets and some of the clothes we wore that were sent up from the supplies from the box.**

**Zart, a pale-skinned boy with almost white-blonde hair, he was Keeper of the Gardens/Track-hoes. Gally, I found out was the Keeper of the Builders; they made the few tools and weapons that were the glade, as well as built the few huts and houses.**

**Clint, had spiky blonde-haired wore glasses and had the start of a scruffy goatee, was the Keeper of the Med-jacks, and since there was only one other Med-jack, Jeff, a thin, dark-skinned boy, the two shared the position of Keeper. Med-jacks was what the Glade had for doctors.**

**Mari, a dark-skinned girl with short hair, was the Keeper of the Baggers, which were the police force and those charged with burying the dead.** Stiles paused and took a deep breath, **there was a graveyard, for those they had a body to bury for, and a memorial stone with names carved on it for those lost to the Maze (I’ll explain about that later).**

**I was introduced to the group of Sloppers, the ones who did the dirty work in the glade, like cleaning the toilets, showers, kitchens, and the blood house. I don’t remember who the keeper was, out of the group of boys I met.**

**When I was finally able to ditch Elena, I found a log and sat down in front of it. I could feel the warmth of the bonfire coming from behind me. I stared out into the dark at the Maze, it was like the damn thing was calling to me. I had to know more about it.**

**Chuck came by and sat behind me, talking about how unfair it was that he couldn’t have any of Gally’s brew because the others thought he was too young for it. Chuck was a cutie, with curly brown hair, and a bit on the chubby side. He was perfect little brother material. Maybe that’s why he took to me the way he did. Because I listened or at least pretended too, the others would get annoyed with the boy and shoo him away as soon as possible. I kind of liked his company. Chuck got bored and wandered away after a while, and… he sat down next to me.**

**“What is that?” I asked Newt.**

**Newt twirled the golden liquid around in the jar he held and took a drink before replying, “That, that’s the maze. The thing that keeps us trapped here.”**

**“Has anyone—”**

**“No.”**

**“Have you—”**

**“Yes.”**

**“Well, you could—”**

**“Done it.”**

**I glared at him, “How do you know what I’m going to ask if you don’t let me ask my questions?”**

**“Cause all the Greenies before you have asked the same questions. And the answers are the same. There is no way out. Or if there is one? The Runners hadn’t found it, yet. Enough questions, have some of this” Newt held out the jar in his hands to me, “it will put hair on your chest.”**

**I took the jar, looking at him, because really?**

**“Well, you know, metaphorically, speaking.” He said with a smirk.**

**I was impressed that Newt could say the word ‘metaphorically’ with how tipsy he was from what was in the jar. I could smell the alcohol in it before I ever brought it up to my mouth. It didn’t stop me from taking a drink… and spitting it right back out.**

**“What the hell is this?” Because that was the nastiest thing, I had ever tasted. (And to this day still is.)**

**Newt chuckled at my reaction, “I don’t even know.”**

**I handed Newt back the jar, and he set it down beside him. We sat there in silence (if I had been myself, it would have made me uncomfortable,) it was peaceful. I felt a prickling at the back of my neck and noticed that he was looking at me. Newt shifted closer to me, and I wasn’t sure if I should let him get so close.**

**“I, I should go?” I said though it came out more of a question. I found myself leaning closer to Newt.**

**Newt shook his head, shifting closer to me, “You should stay…” He brought his hand up to caress my cheek before moving it to rest at my neck, “here with me.” He was so close to me now that I could feel his breath against my other cheek.**

**“That’s…seems like a bad—” Newt’s lips against my cut off my words, as he kissed me.**

Stiles went quiet.

“Yes!” Erica, Allison, Lydia yelled at the TV screen, happily.

Melissa shook her head, “That boy moved far too fast, mark my words.”

Scott said, “The kid was also drunk.”

“Maybe he needed liquid courage?” Isaac asked, “Stiles can be kind of…intimidating?”

“Stiles?” Scott said in disbelieve.

“Well, yeah, she’s smart, brave, pretty…” Isaac trailed off at the looks he was getting, “I’m going to stop talking now.”

“Sounds like someone as a crush,” Danny said with a smirk. Isaac crushed himself closer to Boyd, who wrapped an arm around him.

Derek snorted, “This kid doesn’t even know, Stiles, yet. He just wanted to kiss a pretty girl.”

**I shoved him away.** Stiles said, sadly. **I pushed him away.** Stiles had a far-away look in her eyes. **Why, did I do that? I…** She stopped talking and seemed to be gathering her thoughts.

**Newt gave me a wide-eyed look of horror, and I had to wonder if only for a moment if I was that bad of a kisser? “I, I, shouldn’t have done that,” he stuttered out, “not without your permission. Without you choosing that, choosing me.” The last was whispered meaningfully, yet because I didn’t know what he meant, it was lost on me.**

**(Later I would find out that no boy was allowed to kiss or touch a girl without her complete and total consent. That the offense he had committed could have earned him two months in the Slammer.)**

**“I should go,” I repeated, but I found I really didn’t want to leave, but I wasn’t comfortable enough to stay.**

**“Wait,” Newt said, reaching out but not touching me, “please stay,” he looked over his shoulder at the others gathered around the bonfire, “we can go closer to the others if it would make you feel safer.”**

**That word ‘safer’ got to me. Because I felt…safe with Newt. And I couldn’t figure out why, because after what he did? I shouldn’t have.**

**So, I asked, “Are you going to hurt me?”**

**“No. Never.” He vowed. And I…believed him.**

**Newt got up and offered a hand to me and helped me up and we went over to the others. I watched as Gally was fighting some of the other Gladers in some sort of makeshift ring. What surprised me was that his opponent was a girl.**

**“What’s going on there?” I asked.**

**Newt made a humming sound before he said, “Gally likes to remind everyone that he’s a big dog in a small yard.”**

**“And he fights girls?”**

**“Gally?” Newt snorted, “He fights everyone that steps into that ring. Now let’s get something to eat. This party is for you, after all.” He said, guiding me over to where some food was set up. But before we could get there, Gally called out,**

**“Hey, Greenie! You want a go at me?”**

**I didn’t and shook my head, and started to follow Newt, when I heard a clucking noise, turning I saw Elena smirking at me. She made the sound again, and I realized I was being challenged on two fronts.**

**“You don’t have to do this,” Newt told me. I shrugged at him and walked over to where Gally was standing in the ring. Elena watched me with narrowed eyes.**

**“What happens now?” I asked Gally.**

**He smirked, “You stand there until I toss you out of the ring.”**

**“You sound sure of yourself.”**

**“Not many people have beaten me.”**

**“But you have been beaten.”**

**“Can’t win all the time.”**

**It surprised me that Gally admitted that.**

**Then Gally rushed me, using his weight and strength to shove me back and almost out of the ring. I was able to twist at the last second and stay in it. He swung his fist at me, and I caught it and brought my knee up, slamming it into his stomach and making him grunt in pain and stagger back. The catcalls and yelling from the crowd were distracting, but I ignored them the best I could. Focusing on Gally, he came at me again and knocked me off my feet, I rolled away and kipped back up on to them. I seemed to have some sort of muscle memory for this sort of thing.**

**(Thank you, Derek, for taking the time to teach me to fight.)**

Everyone looked at Derek; he shrugged, “She asked me shortly after Peter died. Said she didn’t want to feel helpless like the night when he attacked her and Lydia at that dance. That Stiles wanted to be able to protect herself and others. If she was going to run with the pack? She needed to know how to defend herself.”

**This time I went at Gally, my shoulder slammed into his chest, I used one of my feet to trip him and sent us both out of the ring and over a nearby log. I landed on top of him, out of breath, when I sat up, I was sitting across his waist. Gally looked up at me with wide eyes,**

**"Don't challenge me," I hissed at him. He made an odd whimpering noise, and his eyes seemed to glow gold in the darkness, but that had to be a trick of the firelight, right?**

“Gally’s a werewolf!” Scott exclaimed in surprise.

“Makes sense,” Peter said.

“How?” John asked.

“If WCKED is taking people from the likes of Gerard Argent, it will stand to reason there would be some Supernaturals in the bunch,” Peter said. “Though it’s dangerous that they have no memories. They wouldn’t know or understand why they have to control themselves.”

**Gally nodded. I got up off of him and turned to…trip over the log I had used to down Gally with and fell hitting my head.**

Everyone groaned at that. John rubbed a hand over his face, “My kid’s clumsiness is going to get her killed.”

**When I opened my eyes, my beautiful boy was looking at me with concern that was almost painful to see. His hand was under my neck, gently squeezing it, which seemed to help the pain in my head retreat.**

**“Hey, you back with us?” Newt asked.**

**“Yeah, I’m…” And suddenly I knew. I knew who I was, I am, “Thomas,” I breathed out.**

**“What?” Newt asked.**

**“I remember my name! It’s Thomasina! I’m Thomas!” I told him excitedly.**

**“Well,” Newt said, getting up, and holding out a hand to help me up, “it’s nice to meet you,” pulling me closer to him, his hand sliding down to lace through my own, “Tomi.”**

**I blinked at the name, and for some reason, that name ‘Tomi’ sounded, more like me than even Thomas did. And I didn’t know why? Why did a name that this boy gave me sound so right?**

“You have to admit this Newt kid is one smooth operator,” Jackson said, admiringly. “He’s pretty much got Stiles eating out of his hand. And that touching show of concern? Masterful.”

“Hey!” Allison snapped, “Newt could be a nice guy and not in a creepy way.”

Lydia made a humming sound but didn’t comment, though it looked like she wanted too.

“Stiles wouldn’t pay attention to a creep,” Erica said, “She has better taste than that!”

“Humm,” Scott said, “She kind of liked Derek for a while.”

“Are you trying to get me shot, Scott! I thought we were past that. Besides Stiles didn’t like me, found me attractive maybe, but mostly? She felt sorry for what happened to me. And wanted to help me.” Derek said, glancing at John warily.

John sighed, “You are nineteen, Derek. I wouldn’t have approved if you had dated Stiles. Because of the age difference but I wouldn’t have stopped it if Stiles decided she had wanted you. I trust her judgment when it comes to people.”

“It never would have worked between Stiles and me.” Derek said, regretfully, “She reminds me to much of…Kate.”

“Ouch,” Lydia muttered, “and rude, is what Stiles would say if she were here. Comparing her to the serial killer that murder your family, harsh.”

Derek only shook his head. He wasn’t going to explain that Kate hadn’t been just that. Derek knew what she had been, but Stiles was smart, brave, driven, sarcastic, and ruthless when needed. These were the same things Kate had been when he knew her before she had betrayed him.

**“Food,” Newt murmured, pulling me towards the food table. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Elena was glaring at me, then she got up and grabbed Alby by the hand and dragged him away from the bonfire. I noticed a lot of the other girls doing that with one or even two! Of the boys. I was going to ask Newt about that, but he thrust a plate of delicious smelling chicken and mashed potatoes at me, and I forgot about the question. Newt led me over to a group that I would come to consider my Gladers.**

Stiles glanced over to her side, **“Shit! I got to be at school in four hours.”** She looked back at the camera, **“I’m going to go to bed, see if I can get some sleep. See ya later.”**

The TV screen when dark, everyone was still for a long moment, then they got up one by one saying their goodbyes to John, he eyed Peter who lingered, even after ignoring the glare that Derek sent him before grunting out, “On your head be it.”

"What do you want, Peter?" John asked, tiredly. God, was he ever tired and worried about Stiles, and he just wanted her back home with him?

Peter strolled up to him, “Time to get out of your head for a while, John.”

“Out of my head?” Peter nodded, and when did he get _that_ close? John wondered. “What are you—” John stopped when Peter pressed his lips to his in a soft, unsure, barely thereof a kiss. When Peter pulled away, he eyed John concernedly, “Oh, you do like to live dangerously, don’t you, Peter Wolf.”

Peter blinked because Stiles was the only other person to call him by that nickname. It wasn’t one he liked and typically wanted to rip out the throat of whoever spoke it. It was strange because he didn’t now nor when Stiles called him by it. “I’m not scared of your daughter. Besides, Stiles just said I couldn’t _flirt_ with you. And I plan to do much more than that with you.”

“Sure,” he drawled, a little worried about how much Peter and Stiles are alike. Stiles liked to follow the spirit of the law, Peter, John was starting to see was much the same way, “Well come on then,” John told him turning away and walking to the stairs.

“What?” Peter asked, confused. Because he hadn’t thought John swung towards men, he had been married after all to one of the most beautiful woman, Peter, ever had the honor of meeting.

“I’m giving you one chance, Peter. Don’t blow it.” John stood halfway up the stairs looking over his shoulder, grinning, “Or rather you can blow me.”

“Are you going to return the favor?” Peter wanted to know.

“Obviously,” John’s tone bordered on sarcastic continuing up the stairs.

Peter rushed up the stairs after him, convinced at this was his best idea ever, or his worst. Time would only tell which way this would play out. Couldn’t hurt to enjoy himself until then, and kept John’s mind off of what could be happening to Stiles right now.


	5. Five

John was sitting behind his desk at the Sheriff’s station, not doing the paperwork that he knew needed to be done. Most of it was for speeding tickets and noise complaints. He had been staring blankly at his computer screen for the last fifteen minutes when a knock came at his door.

“Yeah?” John called out.

The door opened, and the newest deputy, Jordan Parrish, stuck his head in, “Someone here to see you, sir.”

“Well, send them in,” John said, wondering who it could be, Melissa was working night shift this week and should be sleeping right now. He only saw Chris Argent and Alan Deaton on Saturdays when they viewed Stiles videos. John was surprised when Derek Hale walked past Parrish and into the office. John watched Derek’s gaze dart around the room as if he were looking for threats. It was understandable that the Sheriff’s station wasn’t Derek’s favorite place, not after being takin in handcuffs twice for being a murder suspect.

“Derek,” John greeted and motion the other man to a chair on the other side of his desk, “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve been thinking about some of the things Stiles said. If she is going be bringing a group of people back with her, supernatural beings of one sort or another? Well, sir, they’re going to need a place to live.”

That was true, John thought and motioned for Derek to go on.

“I was thinking about rebuilding the Hale House, but I’m unsure of what I’d need to do to get the what’s left of the house and the land back from the county,” Derek told him.

John frowned, “I would have thought you would have gone to your uncle for this. He was a lawyer before the fire…” And Peter Hale had been a good one from what John remembered, had even been up for the D.A. position, and if he had gotten the job? He would have been the youngest person in Beacon County history to do so.

Derek snorted, “Yeah, kind of hard to practice law when he’s legally still dead. He is still sorting that out at the moment.”

Right, that, John thought with a grimace. He’s forgotten that Peter had died, he hadn’t seemed at all someone who had done so and came back through a supernatural ritual. Not if how vigorous Peter had been in John’s bed last week was anything to go by, he wouldn’t mind having the man back in his bed again. That was if Peter actually had the balls to show his face after sneaking out bed while John had been asleep.

“I’ve got little to no idea what sort of paperwork I’d need or who I’d need to talk too.” Derek paused, look embarrassed that his education was lacking in this area, why John didn’t know, a lot of people didn’t know what to do in that sort of situation.

John pushed back his chair and stood up, “Come on, let’s go to the county clerk’s office and find out what you need to get your house back.”

Two hours later and a one over-worked grumpy county clerk and a shit ton of paperwork later, John returned to the Sheriff’s station, Derek walking beside him when he heard someone call his name, John turned to see Alan Deaton hurrying towards them.

“Sheriff, I’m glad I caught you,” Deaton said, he nodded to Derek but turned his attention back to John.

“Dr. Deaton, how can I help you?” John asked.

“I just wanted to let you know that I talked to Marion, my sister. She’s going to keep Deucalion’s pack away from Beacon Hills, for as long as she can. But eventually, they are going to come here for…” Deaton glanced at Derek, “For the Alpha for Beacon Hills. And I may have also talked to the Druidic Council that Julia Bacardi is still alive and has forsaken her oaths becoming a Darach. They’re going to send someone after her that knows how to deal with dark druids.” Deaton then turned to Derek, asking, “Is Cora still with the RoJo’s Pack?”

“Yes, I talked to her earlier this week over Skype and convinced her to stay in South America until we are sure about what the Alpha Pack is going to do.” Derek said, then he looked at John and asked, “I was wondering if I could send copies of Stiles’ videos to Cora so she will be up to date on the situation about that.”

John nodded, “You can send the ones we’re already watched. I’ll give you copies of them. And after we watch the other ones depending on what Stiles tells us, you can send the rest to your sister.”

“That’s fine,” Derek said.

“Well,” John said, looking down at his watch, then back at the other two men, “it’s almost noon. How about we head over to the Diner? And see what the special of the day is, I’m starving!”

“Thank you for the invitation, Sheriff, but I have to get back to the animal clinic,” Deaton said but inclining his head to the Sheriff and giving Derek a stiff smile, then walking over to a small truck in the Sheriff station parking lot and getting into it.

“What about you, Derek?” John asked. Mostly because John hated to eat alone. And mealtimes were too quiet nowadays John found that he didn’t like it.

“I’m free,” Derek said with a sympathetic smile.

They walked over to John's patrol car, “I’ve been meaning to ask,” John said, getting into the car, and continued when Derek got into the passenger’s seat of the patrol car, “how’s the Malia situation going?” Peter hadn’t remembered much about the adoption. That Talia Hale had arranged for the child except for the name of the family.

Derek sighed heavily.

“That good, uh?” John asked as he started the car.

“The Preserve is a big place, and she has been hiding there for years now. The only thing Peter call tell me is that Malia’s mother might have been a coyote shifter,” Derek muttered. “Claims my mother took all of his memories from around the time Malia was born.”

“But he does have some idea, right?” John asked as he drove out of the sheriff station’s parking lot and down the main street towards the diner.

Derek nodded, “He knows something he’s not telling.”

“That’s not a surprise,” John said, “Peter always was one to play his card close to his chest.”

Derek blinked, “You’ve known Peter a long time, haven’t you?”

John nodded, “Since he was Stiles age. He was always in and out of trouble.”

“Aren’t you the same age as Peter?”

John shook his head, “No, I’m about, let’s see,” he thinks about it for a moment and does some quick math, “I’m about five or six years older than your uncle.”

Derek hummed to himself before he said, “Well, whatever Peter knows, its either very dangerous or very dramatic.”

“Knowing your uncle, Derek, it’s probably both!” John said as the car pulled into the Diner’s parking lot.

After an enjoyable lunch with Derek, John returned to the Sheriff’s station and had been on his cell phone in his office with Rafe McCall for ten minutes arguing about what he was going to do about the situation with WCKED when the door to his office opened. Peter Hale slunk into the room like a stray cat, unsure of his welcome, and yet he sprawled in the chair closest to the door. Peter’s hesitant welcome was his own fault, John hadn’t liked waking up to an empty bed after the delicious sex, he and Peter had enjoyed. John had been looking forward to sleepily morning sex but…that had been a no-go because Peter _hadn’t been there_.

“ _…Proceed with caution, John! I can’t just give my superiors this information and tell them it came from a barely sixteen-year-old time-traveling girl that had been kidnapped by a subset of the Rossum corporation.”_ Rafe McCall’s voice floated through the phone, to John’s ear. From the smirk on Peter’s face, John knew the wolf could hear every word being said. “ _I am **using** the information that Stiles gathered. We will be ready to move if—”_

“When!” John bit out through clenched teeth.

“ _When,”_ Rafe said placatingly, “ _Stiles sends out her S.O.S. message.”_ He paused, then said meaningfully, “ _It’s been two weeks, John.”_

“I know. Rumors are already flying around town about Stiles being missing despite how quiet we’ve been keeping her disappearance.” John sighed, “I’m going to have to call a press conference soon,” he made a face at Peter, who was smirking at him. Peter knew just how much John hated public speaking. John had passed out once after giving a speech for the mayor’s birthday when they were younger, “Make the fatherly plead for the safe return of my daughter, instead of just burying Gerard Argent under a cell in my jail.”

“ _We do this by the book, Stilinski! We don’t want anyone to slip away from us. Not after everything that Stiles has done so far to bring down WCKED.”_

“I know,” John said softly. “I just want Stiles back.”

“ _We all do, John. I’ll call you when I have more information.”_ Rafe said.

“Right, Bye, Rafe…and, thank you,” John told him.

“ _Bye, John,”_ Rafe said and hung up on John.

John put down his cell phone on his desk then glanced over at Peter, “I’m going to assume you heard that conversation?”

Peter nodded, “Very word.”

“Good, because as the Stilinski family lawyer, I’m going to need your advice.” John smirked at Peter’s taken back expression, “about my up-coming press conference.”

“Whatever you need, John,” Peter said, sincerely.

John realized that he needed quite a bit from Peter Hale, especially if he was going to get through the shit show that the press conference was guaranteed to be for him.

***

John gazed at the faces of the reporters. They resembled a hungry pack of hyenas and were as about as trustworthy. John shifted in his spot on the steps of the Sheriff’s station, he glanced to his left to see Peter and Derek standing in the shadows of the nearby alley. John was glad to know he had their support; he took a deep breath and began to speak…

“A week and four days ago, my daughter, Mieczyslawa Thomasina Stilinski, went missing during the high school lacrosse game. At the moment, we have no leads as to who has taken her…”

*******

The next day pack was gathered in John’s living room once more, and John put in a new DVD, on the menus he chose the first one pressing play on the first option,

Stiles appeared on the screen, pacing back and forth in front of her desk. Her hand gripping her hair as if it was the only thing keeping her sanity intact. She let out a scream of frustration that caused them all to jump, then picked up the nearest thing on hand, a lacrosse ball and threw it at the wall in front of her, it bounced back heading towards Stiles at a frightening speed, but Stiles dodged it easily. She twisted around and pointed to the camera,

**You had one job tonight, Scott, one!** Stiles snarled at the screen the anger in her eyes was clear to see, **your job was to keep Jackson in that bloody police van!** She swung her hand out and knocked over a standing lamp sending it crashing to the ground. **Your job was not to FUCK ALLISON ARGENT IN THE BACK SEAT OF HER CAR!**

Stiles ran both of her hands over her face in an attempt to calm down. **I could have sworn that you understood how important it was to keep him there! Now? Thanks to you! Gerard Argent knows who the Kadima’s is! He followed Allison! Which lead him to Jackson! Now it’s only a matter of time before he finds the Master, Matt Daehler! I wondered for a long time how Gerard became the Kadima’s master the first time around, tonight was the only way he could have found out who the Kadima was because only you, me, and Derek knew for sure that Jackson is the Kadima! At least that was until you told Allison! You goddamned moron!**

Stiles threw herself into the chair at her desk. **Why do I put up with your bullshit, Scott? Why? Does her pussy taste like chocolate? Because it would have been there TOMORROW for you to FUCK!**

Stiles looked down at her desk and said. **Allison, I’m sorry about that. I’m talking about you like you are a dumb slut…** Stiles looked up at the camera, anger still bright in her eyes. **But you’re a stupid slut and don’t give me that you’re in love shit… AGHHER!** Stiles shrieked incoherently but for reaching up, and the screen went dark.

A few seconds later, an image of Stiles, eyes red-rimmed, returned to the screen, looking much calmer. **My dad was almost fired again; it was one of the things I was hoping wouldn’t happen this time around. _Not that you cared at all_ the first time it happened. You are selfish, Scott McCall, and there have been many days that I’ve _hated_ you. I had to listen to my father tell me how disappointed he was in me and how he wished you were his son… the goddamned golden boy of Beacon Hills is what you are, something you wouldn’t be if not for the very thing you hate about yourself.**

Stiles twisted her chair back and forth, gazing up the ceiling for a long moment before looking back at the camera, her pupils flaring up from their usual light amber brown to deep rich gold, not unlike that of a beta’s, yet, so different. Mostly because it could be seen clearly, there was no lens flare to obscure Stiles’ features like there would be with a werewolf or other shifter. **Scott, you are going to get your act together. Because if I come back and find out that a single member of my pack has been hurt because of your selfishness? I will give you what you crave so badly. I’ll rip the wolf from your chest and send you back to the bench, bro. Test me, Scott, and see what happens. This is the last warning you will get from me.**

Stiles reached for the camera. **Go to the next video, dad. I’ve made my point. And if he still doesn’t get it? Ask him and Allison if they’ve been using condoms because,** Stiles sighed as if it physically pained her to say what she was going to say, **Scott tells me everything I don’t want to hear and… Really, Allison, I thought you were smarter than that!**

Everyone turned to look at Scott and Allison with varying looks of disbelief, the two in question sank down in their seats, red-faced. Stiles smirked from the screen. **Give them hell, Mama McCall. You’re too young to be a grandmother.**

The screen went dark… And everyone exploded at the two idiots in question at once.

Melissa McCall and Chris Argent being the loudness of them.


	6. Six

The next video started, Stiles was in her chair, her feet propped up on the end of her bed, playing with a half-full bottle of water. **Right, so I’m just going to pick up where I left off last time. Which was… oh, right, the bonfire… food was consumed, and more of that horrible drink, which I found out Galley brewed on the regular, it was getting later and,**

**“What the hell was that?” I asked. A loud, roaring sounded like a mountain lion, but with a machinal screech at the end of the sound. The pounding of metal on concrete could be heard echoing around the Glade.**

**“That, love, was a Griever,” Newt said, eyes bright but vague with the alcohol he been drinking. I’d stopped after a single pint jar of the shit because alcohol poisoning was a thing, I knew. How I knew that I couldn’t tell you.**

**“Don’t worry; your safe here with us.” Newt told me, patting my arm, “Nothing gets through those walls.” Newt stood up, swaying every-so slightly, “All right guys let tuck it in for the night! Come on.” He didn’t shout but spoke loudly enough to be heard by everyone, the Gladers closes to us groaned and made sounds of denial but spread the word to the other clusters of groups.**

**I watched as many of the Glader boys whispered to a girl. Or to each other, and the girl i or boy in question would nod or shake their head. I wondered what the question was that was asked? That would cause such blushes to their cheeks; maybe it was just all of Galley’s brew they had consumed?**

**Newt held out his hand, I took it, and he helped me up, the sudden change of position made my head spin for a moment, and I stumble up against him. He wrapped his other arm around my waist, holding me close to him. I was caught by golden glow to his eyes cast from the fire’s light, breathless by the intent gaze that kept me captivated.**

**“Stay with me, tonight,” he breathed against my ear, causing me to shiver, “share my hammock with me…” he pulled back to look at me, at my confused look he said, “just to sleep, promise.”**

**“What else would we do in a hammock?”**

The younger pack members snickered, and the adult shifted uncomfortably. All of them, knowing full well what could be done by two people, if they wanted it enough, could be done in a hammock.

**Newt gave me an unsure look before a small laugh escaped him, he leaned forward his lips not quite grazing against mine as he whispered, “I’ll tell you when you’re older,” he leaned his forehead against mine,**

**“Stay with me?” He asked again.**

**“Yes,” I said, softly, because I didn’t want to part from him just yet. I wanted more of him, even if I didn’t know how to express that.**

Stiles sighed heavily, **I don’t think I would have been able to express it even if I had been myself,** she turned to look at the camera, **I can be a bit oblivious.**

This was not an unknown fact to the people in the room. What surprised a few people was that _Stiles_ knew that about herself and admitted it.

“And she has the gall to call me a slut,” Allison muttered. “She hasn’t known that boy a day, and already she’s jumping into bed— well hammock with him.”

“Mr. Argent, slap her on the back of the head for me, please,” Lydia said, her lips pressed into a thin line, “Because you don’t want me to get up and do it.”

“But she—” Allison started but was cut off by Erica,

“Shut your yap-hole, Stiles is talking.”

Allison glared at the she-wolf but fell silent.

**…you a slut, Alley-cat, but the difference between what I did and you? Is that for all of WCKED’s machinations? They weren’t interested in baby-making or endangering the health of their test subjects, but they were realistic. Everyone was tested to make sure they weren’t carrying anything nasty, and all the girls were fitted with a birth control implant.** Stiles said, waving her now empty water bottle around. Then she frowned, **Oh, now you’re confused? Huh. But Stiles, you want to say, didn’t you tell us that this all took place in a V.R. system? And the answer to that would be yes… but no, the Glade was real, parts of the Maze were real…everything to come? Not so much.**

**Anyway, Newt led me to his hammock, and we got in it. It should have been uncomfortable to lay so close to someone like that. But he held me close, and was so…warm, and smelled of mint and strawberries…**

**“Tomi?”**

**I barely heard Newt’s softly whisper as close to sleep as I was. I wanted to open my eyes to look at him, but I was so tired, and the alcohol I’d drank earlier was catching up to me.**

**“Hmm?”**

**“Stay with me?”**

**I forced my eyes open at the question and saw that he had his eyes closed. “I’m here, aren’t I?”**

**“Always?” he breathed out.**

**“Always,” I whispered back, closing my eyes.**

“I really want to meet this Newt guy,” Jackson said, “I mean anyone who could get Stiles into his bed within hours of meeting her…just masterful.”

Danny slapped Jackson on the back of the head, “Don’t be crude.”

“Yeah!” Erica snapped, “So far, Newt’s been nothing but a gentleman.”

“He did kiss her without her permission, something that was against the rules.” Isaac reminded her.

“True,” Erica agreed, “but afterward, he did everything to make her feel safe.”

“And still talked her into his bed,” Jackson grumbled.

“I don’t like him!” Scott growled out, “He’s going to hurt her, you wait and see!”

“Quiet.” Boyd said, softly, “Stiles is talking.”

**It was a good night…** Stiles said softly, lost in her memories.


End file.
